Two Brothers
by Blackjack488
Summary: Just a little one-shot explaining my take on what happened after the ending of Gravity Falls. Be warned, there be headcanons afoot. XD


Stanley Pines reclined on the deck of his new boat. Well… _their_ new boat. Though technically, he'd been the one paying for it; as it turned out, being trapped between dimensions didn't lend to a spectacular income. But that's where roadside tourist traps make up for shortcomings like being trapped in alternate universes.

Loud bootsteps caught Stan's attention, as Stanford Joined his twin brother on the back of the Stan o' War II. With a soft sigh and an efficient removal of his trenchcoat, Ford collapsed onto the second beach chair.

"Well, that settles that," Ford started, cleaning off his glasses. "Merfolk shouldn't be giving us any more trouble. Good thing I had a Manatee Call on me."

Stan passed his twin a Pitt Cola from the cooler. "No kidding. Would've been terrible to deal with that Hydra the whole trip."

"Heh…well, I'm sure you would've appreciated the adventure," Ford jeered with a smirk.

"Adventure, sure. Being eaten by giant sea monsters, a little less so."

"Hah! If you say so, but the adventures of Jon Reremy would beg to differ!"

Stan chuckled nervously, hiding a brief pause with a sip of Pitt Cola. "I thought we agreed never to talk about that."

"If you say so, but it seemed pretty topical. Especially considering Emma Donson's character arc."

Stan sighed slightly, resigning himself to talking about _that_ game of DD &D. "Yeah, I guess so. The, uh…dolphins are a pretty good analogue."

"Stanley…"

"Not to mention, the kraken could represent the…uh…"

"Stanley."

Stan cut short, turning to face his brother. His brother's face had turned stern and serious, despite the lighthearted tone of the conversation. And yet there was something in it…pity? Worry? Disappointment?

Whatever it was, Stan didn't like it.

"Wh-whoa…look, whoever pissed in your soda can, it wasn't me. Personally, I think it was the harbormaster. He's been giving us dirty looks ever since that incident with the—"

"You can drop the act, Stanley."

Stan blinked. His brother's stare never wavered.

"Wh-what act? Honestly, Ford, I think you're losing your marbles."

Ford stared for a second or two more, before letting out a long sigh. "I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true."

"What are you even talking about, Ford? Honestly, after everything we've been through, I can't believe you'd—"

"It doesn't matter how much we've been through together. You don't remember what we've been through. Because you never got your memories back two weeks ago, did you?"

A long silence crushed the words Stan was about to say, and overwhelmed any chance of lying his way out of this.

So the two of them sat on the Stan o' War II, taking in the implications that Stan's silence offered.

Finally, Stan sighed and gently stirred his can of soda. "And here I thought I'd gotten a good thing going…"

Ford sighed heavily, like all his worries had been confirmed. "Honestly, you did a great job with lying about this. But I'm your brother. You can't get past me when it comes to your past."

"Unless it's in the past 30 years."

Ford chuckled briefly. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But I…I've had my suspicions about this for a while. I just…got…caught up in the emotions of the moment."

Stan took a long sip of soda. "Can't say I blame you, Ford. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for lying."

"Then why!? If you were really sorry, then why lie to us for so long!?"

"Well, you weren't supposed to find out! It's not my fault it's so damn hard to research every little tidbit of my own life!"

"So you weren't even gonna tell us!?"

"Of course I wasn't! Why would I!?" Stan used the brief pause to catch his breath and cool his temper. "Would you really want Dipper and Mabel to lose their grunkle all over again? To always remember that they couldn't bring back his memory no matter how hard they tried!? When I saw you all crying over me…trying so hard to make it work…could you really tell me that you'd be honest through all of that!? I _wanted_ to see them succeed, I _wanted_ to see them happy! So…yeah, I lied. It was tough to pull off, and it hurt like hell to keep lying to you all. But considering the other option…I knew I had to. So get off your high horse and leave me alone!"

Stan worked his hardest to take a few deep breaths and cool his temper, while Ford took in everything his twin had just said (or, more accurately, shouted).

"Stanley, I…" Ford took a long, deep breath. "I'm sorry, Stanley. I'm just…worried about you."

"Yeah, I figured you would be. You seemed like that kinda guy."

"You…you really don't remember anything, do you?"

"Dunno. Can't remember anything before two weeks ago. Everything else is second-hand, either from you and those kids, or from my own research."

"And you did all that…just to make everyone happy?"

"Sure I did. What's your point?"

Ford smirked. "Guess I had you pegged all wrong, Stanley."

"Hey, just 'cause I used to be a con artist, doesn't mean I can't be nice. But who knows, maybe something happened that toughened me up, and now I don't remember it."

"Fascinating…when the memory that caused the change is removed, the change itself is only partially erased…"

Stan chuckled. "How'd I know you'd get a kick out of this?"

"I—I'm sorry, Stanley, I didn't mean it like—"

"I know you didn't. Sure seems like analyzing's something you do a lot, you six-fingered nerd."

Stan playfully punched his brother's arm, only to pause once he realized his joke didn't have the intended effect.

"Oi…What's with the long face?"

Ford shook his head slightly, like he was barely comprehending what his mind was telling him. "You…really don't remember anything, do you?"

"Uhh…no…why would I? Memory guns don't mess around, right?"

Ford started chuckling, while Stan simply looked on.

"Okay, Ford. You're starting to freak me out a little." Ford didn't hear him, instead just laughing as tears started to leak down his face. "C'mon, Ford, talk to me. What's going on?"

"You really don't remember anything, do you?"

"No, I already told you—" Stan paused, only now realizing that there was something more to that question that he simply wasn't getting. "Ford, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay! For two weeks, I was…I hoped that…that you were okay…instead, you're really…really…"

Anything else he was going to say was lost as his voice choked out, and his laughter turned to ugly sobbing.

Stanley, unsure what to do in this situation, simply placed a hand on Ford's back. All that seemed to do was make things worse.

"Do you…do you need anything?" he finally offered.

"…you're…you're really gone, aren't you?"

"I…don't follow."

"Stanley's gone. I killed him. He's gone, and he's never coming back…"

"Hey, I'm right here!"

"No you're not! You may look like him, you may even act like him, but you're not Stanley Pines! Stanley Pines is…is…" His voice choked out before he could add the word "dead".

For several long minutes, the only sound was Stanford's grief-wracked sobs.

Finally, Stanley broke the silence. "I am still Stanley, though."

"How?"

"It's like you said; even when the memory that caused the change is removed, the change is only kinda gone. I may not remember anything, but I'm still Stanley Pines. Or…well…the part of him that mattered, y'know? I figure that's worth something."

Stanford took a few minutes to stop his crying, then a few more to simply mull over the string of logic in that statement.

Finally, after more than enough silent minutes to put Stanley on edge, Stanford muttered, "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure that I'm me?"

"You're you, I'm just…I'm not sure if I agree with what you said."

"Well, that's on you, not me."

"Mmm." Stanford took a long, deep breath. "I just…I don't know what to think about all this. It's a lot to take in."

"Well, why don't we find out?"

"Huh?"

"We're gonna be sailing around the world! Treasure, adventure, and babes off the starboard bow! That's not the kind of thing that happens overnight, right? So why not just take that time to think this whole thing over?"

"Stanley…" Stanford searched for the right words, before simply smirking. "Considering it's the middle of the ocean, I don't think any babes we meet will be human."

"Eh. From what I heard from Dipper, that hasn't stopped me before."

"What are you—wait, Mystery Mountain?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I thought Dipper was joking! You _actually_ hit on a Arachnimorph?"

"Eh. I'm sure she was worth it."

Stanford burst out laughing, with Stanley joining in after only a few seconds. It wasn't a manic or stressed laugh like before; this was a genuine and pleasant display of mirth coming from the both of them.

"Well," Stan finally started, standing up and stretching slightly before offering a hand to his twin, "even if I'm maybe-not-your-brother-depending-on-how-you-look-at-it, what do you say to the adventure of a lifetime?"

Stanford paused, considering it, before taking the offered hand and giving his twin brother a quick hug. "To that, I say 'weigh anchor, Co-Captain!'"

"You got it! But first, let's get rid of these cans!"

"Agreed!"

Rather than walk all the way down the gangplank to the trash can, Stan instead jabbed a thumb towards it and smirked. "Whoever gets it in the can drives the boat for the week!"

"Oh, you're on!"

Ford took his time to carefully account for the soft wind currents and the weight of the can (making sure to remove the weight-balance-destroying pit), before making his carefully-calculated throw. A surprise gust of wind, however, blew it just slightly too shy, and it landed barely a meter away from the can.

"Hah! I'll bet you can't beat that!"

"Watch me, Pointdexter!" Stan took no time to aim or calculate, instead relying on his gut to make the throw. And while it at first seemed to miss by a massive margin, the wind carried it right back on target.

Well, mostly on-target. It bounced off the rim of the trash can, ricocheting into the door of the Harbormaster's Office.

"HEY!" came a shout from inside said office. "What are you doing!? Can't you read!? The sign says 'No Littering' for a reason! You'll upset our mermaid masters!"

Stan and Ford shared a quick glance, before they both muttered, "Run."

They immediately scrambled to get to work and get the Stan o' War II moving before the Harbormaster caught them. Much debate was had over who would be steering, right before the Harbormaster cried out about how he had a shotgun at the ready, which promptly ended all argument. Stanford ended up manning the wheel, while Stanley frantically raised the gangplank and untied it from the dock.

Despite the initial delays, the two were leaving the marina just as the Harbormaster caught up to them. He stared out at the fast-disappearing boat, his gangly form outlined by the setting sun.

He hefted his oversized shotgun into one hand and adjusted his tinfoil cap with the other. "Littering monster spawn…" he growled after them.

"I know, right? They're both so rude…" The voice came from the water next to the dock, specifically the mermaid who floated there and stared out at the boat, wearing a broken hairbrush as a hat and a bra made of a discarded beach towel, idly filing her nails into shape with an industrial tool.

Immediately, the Harbormaster threw himself into a prayer position towards the mermaid. "I will curse them with terrible luck if my lady wishes it."

The mermaid simply studied her nails, shrugging slightly.

"Eh. Why not?"


End file.
